Cut Out The Past
by Abi2
Summary: Duo has a decision to make but is it the right one? Or is it one that will bring him nothing but pain?
1. Chapter 1

I blame French Onion Sunchips and Shannon, aka "The Toast".

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He'd been sitting there, staring for the better part of four hours. His hands sat in his lap, long fingers curled around the sharp silver in them. Melancholy eyes stared soulfully at him from under the long bangs that hid his face. There were old tear stains down his face, but his eyes were no longer red from crying. They were calm. The kind of calm that only comes with a heavy decision. One which will change the very fabric of one's life.

A finger twitched against the now warm silver... It would be so easy... So easy.

He thought back on his life, on everything that led to this moment; all he could see though was the look of utter condemnation, the hatred in _his_ eyes. The one who mattered most, cared the least. Isn't that how it always works? The jaded never appreciate what they've got, even when it's gone.

And he'd lost so much. His home, his life, his friends.

His love.

No.

He had lost the man he had been "in love" with for all those years. But not the love that he had for that same man. The one who had looked at him, and without a single word spoken, told him to get out of his life forever.

And he wasn't sure it got much more "forever", short of death.

No, he would live on, keeping with tradition, he would lose this, and he would live and grow. He would die slowly, bleeding internally of a continuously broken heart.

His eyes stared at him, mocking him.

_"Duo! How could you! You know that he's not like that! I told you, time and again that you should just let it go. No Duo, I'm not angry at you. No Duo... I'll never leave you. Duo, Duo I have to go now. Call me if you need something."_

And just like that, he was alone.

Duo Maxwell, orphan, killer, and overall _idiot_. He was destined to never hold on to what he loved, what he cherished. It was his fate.

Duo didn't even _believe_ in fate.

_"The only thing I believe in is death."_

The story of his life. Pained indigo eyes pleaded with himself. What choice did he have? Who could he turn to? Hilde was married, and pregnant too. Quatre was busy with Winner Enterprises, and had already told him, in his polite fashion, to fuck off. Trowa was - well, Trowa. They'd never really gotten a good chance to know each other. Besides, he was with Quatre, and what Quatre said, Trowa agreed with. They were always on the same wavelength. Always together, and so very much a part of each other.

Duo laughed, his reflection laughing hollowly at him.

WuFei was busy in the Preventers, and as much as they had fought, they were still friendly. But he was Heero's partner, and he would side with Heero on this. No matter what he thought about the subject, as Duo knew from experience, you don't go against Soldier Boy. They had been roommates after the war; Duo because he was infatuated with Heero, and Heero because he didn't have anything else to do. He had spent three years, three long, lonely, painful years trying to see if Heero even liked anyone, either sex, at all. There had been some hushed encounters that Duo had caught wind of, but never had he found out who with.

_I should have known, after all that time, that he would never look at me as more than a friend. More than an annoying roomie who couldn't keep up to par anyways._

Man was he pathetic. He sat in front of the mirror, eyes searching for a spark, the flame of life that he was sure was in there somewhere. He couldn't bear to think about how he had lost it on the way.

On the way to what? On the way to being a killer? An annoyance? A hindrance_ to the mission and to me._ That's what Heero had said.

Duo carefully lifted on pale hand from his lap, fingers gently tracing the purple and yellow bruise marring his face. He knew... He knew that Heero was strong, but Heero knew how to pull his punches too. They had sparred, had played sports and such. Always Heero had treated him gently, not like glass, but softly so as not to hurt him.

And yet, the impact of his fist was clear to all who would look.

And no one would look. No one would say anything to him about it.

Strength to bend steel, and thankfully (or not, he wasn't quite sure which yet) Heero had checked his swing at the last second, leaving a bruise instead of a broken orbital socket.

It was the little things really.

His fingers traced the bruise, then ghosted over eyes, nose, mouth. What about him set everyone on edge?

Why did everyone he meet always form opinions about him, even before he opened his mouth?

Why did they assume that he was brash, loud-mouthed and annoying. Talkative, rude. Uneducated. He searched his face for these things. Where were the laugh lines, to prove his hilarity, his innate happiness? Where was the vapid stare, the sure sign of idiocy? The look about his eyes that said "rude"? Where were these things? All he saw in the mirror was a young boy, his face older than his years. Eyes that had no shine of life, no glimmer of hope burning brightly anymore. The brightness in his eyes came from the unshed tears. He saw sorrow, and grief. He saw a fake, someone who never really existed in the first place.

His hands gripped the silver harder, the warm metal biting into them. There was no blood, no marks though. They were sharp, but not so sharp.

The scissors were his final act of redemption.

How else could he prove that he was no longer who they thought he was? How else could he prove that he no longer cared, no longer loved or laughed or _felt_. Heero had told him to get out of his life, to leave and not to come back.

Well, Duo Maxwell the idiot, the joker, and the self-proclaimed Shinigami, he would die tonight, and he would never return.

His hands let go of the scissors, curling once more around the symbol of him, of his entire being. His memories, the one thing that was _his_. The one possession he had kept throughout his life, even on the streets. When he brushed it, he could feel Sister Helen. When he braided it, he could hear the children of Maxwell Church and Orphanage, laughing, tumbling. When he felt it he felt the weight of their deaths, smelled the cloying smell of burning meat and wood. Every time he felt it's weight on his back, he felt Solo and the gang, felt the companionship they had shared, before they left him too.

He would catch glimpses of it, flying behind him and he could see the pilot of Wing, setting his bones, or flying without his parachute.

He would see countless deaths, his hair lit by the fires of explosions, drenched in blood and gore.

His hands caressed the length of hair, feeling the thickness, the heavy weight of almost three feet of hair. He looked at himself. Really looked. What was he? A lost little boy? A soldier? A friend?

He was all of these, and he was none. He was no longer a boy, but not yet a man. He no longer fought on the battlefield, yet he fought everyday to be noticed. Was he a friend? Who would remember him when he wasn't with them anymore? Hilde? Wufei? Quatre? Hell, he wasn't even sure he was his own friend.

_I think I'd hate me too. They all do. They see me, and in me they see someone they can hate, someone that they project themselves upon, and they hate it._

Another hollow laugh. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Heero would be home anytime. He was supposed to have gotten his things and left. But he just sat in the bathroom, fingering the scissors.

_Just a few strokes, so simple. Either way you do it, you won't be left alive long enough for it to matter. You know that the minute Heero walks into this flat, you're a dead man._

_I'm a dead man walking anyways._

_You're stalling._

His eyes traveled back to the silver scissors in his hands as he opened and closed the shears on the air, experimenting. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, his fingers shaking, his breath shallow. He could hear Heero coming to the door. Heero would know he was here, would find him sitting here.

He was dead, one way or another.

He looked at the silver shears, time slowing as he heard the key in the lock. He opened them wide, slowly, oh _so_ slowly lifting his hand to his braid. He lifted the braid off his neck, felt it's weight. He could hear Heero, in the hallway, asking him why he was still here.

He was so... he wasn't angry, but he wasn't happy.

Duo shut his eyes, not wanting to see what he was about to do, knowing he was a coward for waiting so long. What had he hoped, that Heero would walk in, and knock the scissors away, proffessing his undying love for him, and a hair fetish?

He smiled sadly.

Life would never be the same, and as he lifted the scissors to his braid, right by the base, he heard the door open, and Heero's voice say his name. The shears started to close, tears streaking down his face.

He was a coward... A dead coward. He had faced down thousands of Ozzies, had killed them all, and with a smile on his face.

And now here he was crying his eyes out in front of someone who would just ridicule him, and he was so scared.

He heard his name on those lips, heard something in his name. His eyes opened, the scissors still closing.

Dead indigo met vibrant blue.

The resistance was great, the hair was so thick it took four hacks to separate the length. His heart cried out, beating harshly. His head swam with the knowledge, he saw the precious length of hair tumble heavily to his lap. Saw the sheared end, and felt the soft air on his neck. He was free of his memories, free of his life.

Free to die in solemn silence.

He looked back up to horrified blue eyes, his own eyes starting to dry.

It was over, and nothing could turn it back. He had decided. It was now or never. He stood, hair thumping to the ground, his heart smashing with it. He turned to Heero, eyes dry, heart pounding.

"I'll never be him again. I can't. You said to get out, so he did."

He numbly brushed past the stunned Heero, the comforting weight of his braid no longer there. He almost broke down, almost fell to the floor and cried out with the loss. He made it out into the hallway before his eyes burned and his lungs seized. A choked sob, a gasping breath. He fell to his knees, and touched his head to the ground, holding his stomach in a mocking gesture of comfort. He could feel the ends of his hair brushing his ears and neck, felt the pain of the loss so acutely. It was as if he had lost a limb. He was trying to walk without legs, trying to swim without arms.

He didn't hear the slow footsteps behind him, didn't see the shadow falling over him. His eyes were closed, squeezed closed against the pain and the sorrow. He did feel the arms that wrapped around him, the warmth of Heero as he pulled Duo up, standing him on his feet. Duo didn't turn around though, he couldn't. Couldn't face the emotionless face. The face that would never truly understand what he had just witnessed. But two strong arms encircled him, holding him in an embrace meant to comfort.

It stung like salty tears in a fresh wound.

"Let go of me Heero."

His voice barely a whisper, catching with a small sob. He was trembling, and he was desperately trying not to. It was bad enough for Heero to have seen him like this, but for Heero to feel him tremble, to hear his sobs. Unthinkable.

"Duo... What... Why Duo?"

"Because I'll b-break your face Yuy. Let me go." He tugged futily at the strong arms holding him up.

"No Duo. Why did you just--" If Duo wasn't sure that Heero was incapable of actual human feelings, he would have thought that it was almost a sob, almost a feeling that had caught the words in Heero's throat. That was the last straw. He laughed. He laughed and it was a hollow, joyless sound, filled with pain and fear and death.

"Because Yuy," he couldn't bring himself to call Heero Heero. It hurt. A lot. " because it's all I had left."

"But Duo, that doesn't make -- "

"Yuy! Where are you, and why aren't you back --" Wufei pulled up short, both at once curious and worried by the sight before him. Heero had his arms around someone, a distraught someone. He could see the tremors running through the person - a boy it looked like. Heero had the look of a frightened child, one who just watched someone be killed.

"Heero, what's going on here?" Wufei edged closer, trying not to startle the boy. "Who's this?"

The boy, maybe in his teens, had old jeans and a faded black shirt. There were scars up and down the arms that were holding his stomache, and their hair... It had seen better days. Then he was stunned into oblivion when the boy turned a heartbroken face upwards, black eyes taking in the broken countenance of ...

"Duo?"

Red streaks and puffy eyes drew attention to the fact that he had been crying, something that he had _never_ seen Duo do. _"Boys don't cry 'Fei"_ That's what he always said, biting back tears as this wound, or that scrape was treated. And his _hair_. What had happened to his braid? The one that he had protected with tooth and nail, the one he wouldn't let anyone - not even Quatre - touch. His hair was everything to him. No matter how many times he was told that it was a safty hazard, no matter how many times it got tangled and dirty, he always defended it and took care of it.

"No." It was a whisper. "No, I'm not Duo."

Wufei looked to Heero, and saw something he never thought he would ever see.

Worry. Shame. Guilt.

"Duo, what did you - "

"I'M NOT DUO! DUO'S DEAD!" The shout rang down the hall. Heero looked at the broken young man in his arms and hauled him inside, motioning for Wufei to do the same. As soon as the three were inside, Duo broke out of Heero's arms, and sat on the couch. He seemed to fold in on himself, even as he sat upright, staring off into the distance.

"Heero, what's going on?"

Heero sighed. "I came home, and he was just sitting there in the bathroom. He had scissors...He looked right at me as he - he." Heero cleared his throat. "As he cut off his hair."

Wufei just gaped. Openly gaped at the two of them. What had happened? He'd heard from Quatre that the two had had a major fight, and that Duo might be moving out, but this? This was a little too far.

"What started all of this?" Not even a sign of life from Duo. Heero looked at him and motioned to come back to the bedroom.

"About four days ago Duo got drunk. Really, really _really_ drunk. He... He kissed me, and well, tried to do much more, but I stopped him. He didn't know what he was doing. I hit him before I even realized it, and I was shouting at him. I told him to go away, to leave me alone. I told him to go sleep it off, and that we'd talk later. I guess neither one of us really tried to talk to the other. I don't... I don't understand what he did! He said to me," Heero looked as though it actually hurt him physically to say the words. "He said : 'I'll never be him again. I can't. You said to get out, so he did.' I don't understand what went wrong Wufei!"

Heero had the look of someone who was truly out of their element. He never dealt with these kind of situations, that was always Quatre, or Sally. Hilde. Not Heero, not Wufei, or Trowa. They just weren't the type to sympathize and help to deal. But he would have to try.

"Let me talk to him. Call Quatre, and Sally too. We may need to sedate him... He may have just... had a break in reality." It pained him to say it, but they both knew it was a very real possibility. It was for all of them.

"Alright."

Wufei walked back to the living room, mildly surprised to find Duo still seated. Usually the braided menace - He stopped himself, thinking about the words. He no longer had his trademark braid, and he wasn't much of a menace. Not now, anyways.

"Hey there Duo. I'm just going to sit down, okay? I'm going to talk to you. I want to know what's wrong."

Those eyes... They stared right through Wufei, they looked so... Dead. Shattered. Where there was usually a light of mischief or of devious fun and _life_, there was none now. There wasn't a flicker of the old Duo in there.

"I told you. Duo's dead."

"So who are you?"

His head cocked to the side, uneven locks swirling around his neck.

"I hadn't really thought about it. I don't think I came here to do that... Maybe I did. Maybe that's why I waited here so long. So long Wufei. And I still couldn't see him."

"See who?" Wufei was getting chills, watching this blank person, this obviously insane person talk to him, sounding just like his old companion.

"See the Duo everyone else sees. I couldn't find him in there anywhere. All I could see was the same old Duo, the one that I've always been."

Wufei was startled at this.

"Why do you think we see anyone different from the person you see? You're one and the same." He regretted the words as soon as he said them.  
"Since when have you been the cold-hearted, weird misogynistic bastard from the wars? Does Quatre always look so sweet and kind? No. The person I saw was a far cry from the person you saw. I was never happy, was never funny. I was always polite, I knew my place. All you guys could see were the mistakes, the things that you saw in yourselves. Heero saw a reckless idiot. Quatre saw a ruthless killer. You saw someone careless, someone who didn't seem to understand the importance of the mission. Lord knows what Trowa saw, he couldn't tell you if you asked Quatre to do it. And I saw me. Underneath all of the layers of projection, the filters and masks and disguises, I saw the real me. And when he died, I had to move on. Had to let him go."

Wufei looked to the side as Duo said this, watching the dark spot he knew to be Heero.

_Do you hear this Yuy! What did we do that was so wrong? How did this happen?_

"When did... he... die? What happened?" He felt like a doctor.

"I don't remember. He's been dead so long. But I finally realized he wasn't going to come back. I could hope, and I could dream, but nothing was going to bring him back to life. I thought --"

There was a frantic knock at the door, and Heero answered it. Quatre rushed in and spotted Duo. His eyes widened, and his hand rose to cover the frightened gasp.

"Allah - Duo!"

Duo looked at him, eyes not really seeing him anymore.

"I'm not Duo. Duo's dead."

Quatre inhaled sharply, feet taking him over to stand in front of the man he once called his friend.

"Duo, you are Duo. You can't be anyone else. You're Duo... Oh what happened to your _hair_? Oh Allah..." Duo looked a Quatre, actually looked, not through him, but at him. His eyes softened ever so slightly.

"I cut it Quatre. It's all I had left of him, and it was the only way to let go. If I could let go of my past, then I could move on to the future. So, Duo's dead, and I'm here. Alive, as far as the textbook definition goes."

They all looked at him, looked at the softness in his eyes, the way he held himself. He was not as confident as before, more timid, but no less forceful. His eyes had the passion of old, but buried under the pain of the new. He was in there, but he didn't want to come out.

"Why did you cut it Duo? You could have just --"

"No." The answer was forceful, a statement of fact. The whole truth.

"I couldn't have Quatre, I had to." He looked away, and almost as if he was trying to convince himself, "I _had_ to."

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So... I'm thinking about continuing this... but it already went further than planned. It was supposed to stop when he cut his hair, but the fic just kept rolling, kept going. I dunno, maybe it would be better without the extra at the end, but... eh.

Review please? I'd like to know if you liked it, and if I should keep going.

(P.S-- I should be getting chapter 5 of "Life"out soon, for those following that one.)


	2. Chapter 2

Holy shiznit Batman! I was blown away by the reviews for this piece! It made me so happy to know you liked it! As per request, here is (probably) the end of the story:

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They all looked at him, looked at the softness in his eyes, the way he held himself. He was not as confident as before, more timid, but no less forceful. His eyes had the passion of old, but buried under the pain of the new. He was in there, but he didn't want to come out.

"Why did you cut it Duo? You could have just --"

"No." The answer was forceful, a statement of fact. The whole truth.

"I couldn't have Quatre, I had to." He looked away, and almost as if he was trying to convince himself, "I _had_ to."

"But Duo-" started Quatre, ready to argue, ready to be the clever businessman he was, tell Duo what he had done had been hasty, not well thought out. But before he could really get into it, Duo started to speak, and Sally knocked on the door, Heero moving silently to let her in.

"No Quatre. I'm not Duo anymore. Can't you see? He's gone. He's been gone for so long, but I kept hanging on to the past, never really living for the future. And then, Heero opened my eyes." All eyes swiveled to the quiet man in the back of the room, well away from the rest of the group.

"Quatre, can I speak with you?" Sally's tone left no room for questions, and Quatre reluctantly got out of his kneeling crouch in front of Duo and walked over to the Preventer's agent.

"What happened Quatre? All I heard from Heero is that Duo's not well, maybe even in need of restraints. What's going on? What happened to his hair?" She asked quietly, not wanting to upset the man on the couch.

Quatre sighed, trying to gather the information he had already.

"Well, about four days ago Duo got drunk, and umm, confronted Heero about his...feelings for Heero. Heero hit him, and they made plans for Duo to move out. All I really know after that was that Heero sold their car, and that Duo didn't come back home for two nights. We just found him here, like this. Sally, what can we do?"

Sally looked at Quatre, disbelief in her eyes.

"Heero actually hit Duo? And then sold the car? Maybe Duo just took it too hard... He was rather closer to... a break... than the rest of you. You all had lives and jobs. Lovers." She smiled, glancing at her own lover, Wufei. "He didn't really have that. He had friends, he had a job that I know from his talks to me and through Wufei that he hated his job. The signs were there. I just wonder what the catalyst for such a drastic break was. What could have convinced him to cut his hair, to create an entirely new life, a new persona... I need to get him to a psychologist soon. I think that you guys should come along, and maybe we can sort this out before he really hurts himself, or one of us."

The two walked back over to the silent group by the couch. Wufei had tried to get Duo to talk, but all that he got were blank stares. The man once called Duo sat on the couch, reflecting, and beginning to fit into his new skin. He grabbed for his braid, and when his hand clutched air, he looked lost before he remembered what he had done. He felt the short strands brushing around his neck, uneven and rough.

He thought about that night, the one that started this entire thing.

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--Four days ago--

The rope of hair swung with every beat of the music as the head and body attached to it swayed and moved. It was dark, smoky, and noisy. It had to be almost midnight, and he was still at the bar, currently dancing. He came here once a week, twice sometimes, to forget. To drink and dance, and to blend in and forget. All he wanted was for one night be able to not see himself in the mirror and think "what a waste of life". To be able to look at someone and have no flashbacks to people from the past, people long dead.

He had prided himself in his "luck", he hadn't had much trouble getting over the war. But the killing had never bothered him.

It was the things he thought he saw, the phantoms of his past, that made his heart ache and his stomach flutter.

He wanted to see his roommate and not feel a pang of heartache that he knew would never be healed. Because Heero was fucking _asexual_ for pete's sake! He never showed open interest in anything except his guns and his laptop. It was hopeless. He'd had _some_ experience, but Heero found it prudent to not share with his best friend. That's what normal guys did, right? They would talk about who they'd done, and how it was. Shit like that. But never, _never_ had Duo once heard Heero say anything remotely sexual, even a joke. He never even smiled at blatant innuendo!

Not that he himself bragged about any lays he'd ever had. All four of them.

But that was another sorry story, never to be told to anyone.

Tonight was about forgetting, not remembering. Not dwelling. Duo shuffled off of the tiny dance floor and sauntered unsteadily to the bar. People pushed and shoved, and he let them push him around. He closed his eyes and just _let go_. He felt battered and lost and strangely comforted by the thought. He wasn't a person, he was a non-entity. A half-formed thought and a figment of his own imagination. He slowly opened glazed indigo eyes, letting the world slowly come back, immersing himself in the flow of the bar. He sat on a free stool, motioning to the bartender to pour another shot of Everclear. He could fuel his car on the shit, but it got the job done. The job? The job was to get shit faced and then stumble home and sleep until he had to go to work the next day.

The liquor was set in front of him, and he stared at the little glass before shooting it in one go. It burned to his stomach, then his head started to buzz with the warmth. He smiled, and motioned for another. The bartender looked at him, obviously trying to get Duo to reconsider, but it was futile.

"I can still think, I can still talk. I'm not drunk yet." He shouted, probably a little slurred but with the noise in the bar it didn't show. He grinned, tossing back the shot, then he turned on the stool and watched the colors fade into one another.

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It was last call, two-thirty. He should have been home hours ago, but he could still feel, and he wanted to get one last drink.

"You've had half a bottle of Everclear, and a few shots of Tequila. I'm amazed you haven't passed out yet!"

Duo looked blearily at the man, smiling sadly.

"I have a high tolerance." He got his last shot, not realizing that the bartender had been giving him half water, half liquor for shots for about an hour. He tossed it, paid his tab, and stumbled out of the bar.

The street was empty, dark and cold. He was weaving, he knew it, but he couldn't stop it. He put a hand against the cool bricks, steadying himself. He heard the man behind him before that same man could come up to him. He started walking, hoping to avoid conflict, but knowing it would come to blows.

"Gimme eyer wallet!" The man tried to grab Duo, but missed. They were both drunk, and neither in any condition to fight. The man overbalanced and fell on the ground. He didn't get back up, so Duo kept going. The bar was two blocks from the apartment that he and Heero had shared for three years now. It was modest, in a middle-class neighborhood.

He fumbled with the lock, and finally got into the building. He stumbled to the elevator, pushing the button. He realized minutes later that the car was still there, waiting for a passenger. He got on and pressed the floor. The ride up made him nauseous, but he took a breather in the hall before trying to unlock his front door.

He had barely got the key in the lock when the door wrenched open and the formidable glare of Heero rained upon him.

He smiled drunkenly, trying to make light of the fact that it was three something in the morning and he had work at one.

"Heeeeeroo. Hiiiiiya. Nice ta see ya. Good ta knowya care." His statement was met with a questioning stare.

He walked in, brushing past Heero and dumped his coat on the floor, not even bothering to try to hang it in the closet. He turned to Heero and stared at the man.

"You have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen Heero. They're all blue and deep and pretty and blue. Like ice, or the sky or something." Heero stared.

"And you've got this look that says 'don't fuck with me! I can beat you to a pulp in two seconds'. Makes it hard for people who like you to get to know you. I mean," at this point he was right up next to Heero, his buzz making him more adventurous than he would ever dare to be with Heero. "Look at me, I've spent _years_ trying to get you to notice me, and all you do is grunt and go split cells or something. I mean, god, do you go and look at yourself and say 'it was good for me, was it good for me?' You have to be like a _sponge_ or a bacteria. You reproduce a-sexchually. Cuz, you never notice _anyone_. I've tried for ages to get you to see someone. Hell, anyone. But NOOOO. You don't want to. You don't see that there are people who want to love you."

He stumbled a bit, Heero's arms going out to steady him. Duo turned it into an embrace though, holding Heero close and propping his chin in the hollow by Heero's neck. He fit perfectly, and he smelled Heero's musky aftershave, and tried to remember what he had been talking about.

"You never notice what's right in front of you. I've been standing here for years, and hell, Relena's stalked you. And you just stare past us like we don't exist." His head turned into Heero's neck, burrowing closer to the rapid pulse in his neck.

"Duo. You're drunk. You have no idea what you're talking about. Go to bed. Sleep it off."

Duo looked up, his face close to Heero's, lips aching to kiss him.

"But Heero... All I want is for you to see how much I love you..."

He pressed his lips to Heero's reveling in the feel. They weren't soft, they were chapped and rough and _Heero_. He melted into Heero's arms, hoping that this wasn't a dream, and yet wishing it was. If it wasn't a dream, he was about to get killed for this.

At least he'd die happily.

The blow felt like a train had erupted in his skull, all blinding lights and noise. He shook himself, holding a shaky hand to his pounding eye. His head spun and he could feel the lump already rising. There was a small trickle of blood oozing our of the side of his head where he hit the floor. He couldn't even sit up.

"Oi, Heero. You hit _hard_. I forgot that." His voice was shaky. He knew that this was it. The last time he'd ever speak. He was dead meat.

Heero looked down at him, shocked. He looked at his hand as if it belonged to someone else, and then back to the sprawled out pile of Duo on the floor.

"Oh god Duo! Are you --"

"Oi. If you're gonna kill me, make it quick. This really hurts, and I'm gonna have a bitch of a hangover tomorrow."

That was Duo, trying to make light of his probable death.

"Duo... Duo you're drunk. You said things you don't mean, and that you'll regret later. I'm not going to kill you, but I think that maybe... Maybe we need to... not be roommates anymore. This... Let's talk about it when you're sobered up."

Heero held out his hand, ready to help Duo up. But all Duo could see was his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes were murky, filled with doubt and disgust and hate.

He let his head thunk back on the ground, ignoring the flash of pain. He could feel the alcohol wearing off, and could _feel_. He could feel that dark hole inside of him gnaw into his chest. That empty space where his heart had been.

"I think..." His voice was a cracking whisper. "I think I'll stay here for a while." He shut his eyes and let the feeling of complete and utter rejection fill him. It gave him a sense of worth, oddly enough. It made him feel as though this rejection were something to live for. Because even if Heero looked on him in disgust, Heero was still looking at him. Not past him, or through him. He heard Heero kneel, touch his swollen eye, and then mutter something in a language that he didn't understand. Heero walked away, his bare feet echoing softly on the bare wood floor. Duo heard the fridge door open, and heard something being removed. Heero shuffled back and put the bag of frozen vegetables next to his head.

"We'll talk about moving arrangements tomorrow."

But they never did. Duo slept in the hall, letting the peas defrost on his face as he slept, and only woke up when Heero stepped over him to go to work.

"Clean up the mess in the hall and take a shower. You have to be at the shop by noon-thirty."

The door shut softly, and that hurt more than a loud slam ever could.

-

Duo looked up from the car engine he was currently inspecting, oil smudges on his face and his braid doubled back on itself and tied with a bandana. He'd been catching shit all afternoon about his eye, it was swollen and dark purple, almost black. His entire head throbbed, and he was sure that there was a brass band marching around in there, but he was still putting his best face forward. He endured the other mechanic's taunts and jeers as best as he could. Everything from calling him a beat-up whore, to asking if his boyfriend caught him cheating. He just grinned, knowing that he wouldn't have to deal with this much longer. He was looking into a new apartment. He had called Quatre about it, but the blonde had told him to fuck off and deal with it himself. Not in as many words, in fact in many many more. But that was the jist.

_"You won't learn from this if I help you to just leave Duo. You need to talk to him, you need to tell him that it was the alcohol, or that you didn't mean it. I know it's not entirely true, and that you don't lie, but it's the only thing that can keep you from having to leave."_

Quatre sure knew how to pull the punches there, didn't he? Duo looked up after hearing the familiar sound of Heero's engine. The one that they had built from scratch, together. It hurt to hear it, but he knew that Heero would keep the car, it meant to much to throw away after one stupid argument.

Right?

"Hey, Maxwell. Your boyfriend's here! What does he want, another go? Wants to give you a matching pair of eyes?"

Duo swore he could feel his heart shrivel. They kept throwing these horrible things at him, and as much as he tried to hide the fact that they had hit home, he couldn't keep the emotions from his face. Fear, panic, and sadness.

He couldn't hear Heero and Joe, the shop owner, but he could see paperwork.

Heero was selling the car.

To his shop.

While he was working.

He dropped the wrench he was holding, his fingers as numb as his heart. He got up, trembling. He could hear the whispered insults, and chose to ignore them. He could see Joe and Heero shake hands, saw the money. Before he knew what was going on, he was at the office, his hand on the doorknob. He paused, taking a second to think. He decided to go in anyways.

"Heero! What's up? What're you doing here?" Heero just looked at Duo like he was daft.

"Selling the car." His eyes were ice, his face stern.

"But Heero! We spent a year and a half on that! The time, the money! God Heero, the memories, the fun we had. Heero, what's going on? Just because of one stupid thing, you're throwing away a beautiful car, and a bunch of memories? How callous!"

Heero glared at Duo, his fist tightening ever so slightly. Duo cringed, his instincts overcoming his training. Heero's eyes widened minutely, almost as if surprised at the reaction.

"Duo. I sold it. It was mine to begin with, and now I don't want it. I'm getting another car."

Heero walked out, and Joe was just staring at Duo, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Heero! You bastard Yuy! How could you! Goddamn it Yuy! Look at me! Look at his! You did this! I'm not scared of you!" Duo gestured at his face, then gave Heero the bird. Joe started to chastise him for antagonizing his customer when Heero turned around and walked back stiffly.

"Duo. Shut up. You have no say in anything to do with my life. You are nothing to me. Get out, and stay out."

Duo just crumpled. He held together, but Joe saw it, saw the look of total despair. Heero walked away, and out of sight. Duo just stood there, ignoring the jeers, ignoring Joe who was telling him it was alright, and that these things happen.

But all Duo could see was another person he loved walking away from him.

He was alone again.

-

The bartender took one look at his face and pulled out a bottle of Jack, mixing it with a coke. Today was a slow drink day, none of the get drunk quick stuff.

"What's up? You get mugged, or get popped in a fight?" Duo looked at him without any real expression. He was just... apathetic. He hurt all over. He was tired, sore, his head was _killing_ him, and his heart kept beating in a funny arrhythmic way.

"Yeah. Something like that." The bartender opened a beer for another customer, but came back to Duo's seat at the bar and tried to get him to talk.

"Lover's spat?"

"No, my... friend... forgot to pull his punches. We got angry and he decked me. I was on the floor, and to drunk to fight back."

The bartender cringed, pulling out some ice and a packet of pain reliever.  
"Here, put some ice on it. Even if it was last night, this'll numb it better than the alcohol. And here, I'm giving you these, but I can't give you anymore drinks." Duo nodded, holding the bag of ice to his swollen eye, and popping the pills back with a coke.

"That's fine. I have to go home soon anyways, get my stuff. Have to find a new place. Just akward now, what with Heero's being a bitch. He sold our car! The car we pent a year and a half building! Right in front of me at the shop! How can someone be so cruel?"

The bartender made a face, his disgust at Heero's behavior evident.

"He didn't think it all the way through probably. Hell, we all do things to spite those who hurt us."

"But... How did I hurt him? Yanno? I didn't do anything to hurt his non-existent feelings! He's the one who decked me, who told me to get out, the one who kicked me while I was down so to say. He's never been one for excess, but that's a little far, don'tcha think?"

"Yeah. But sometimes, the people we want to hurt the most are the ones we love the most. Maybe he's just... upset about whatever you fought about, and he just wants you to feel as bad as he does. I did that with the ex-wife."

Duo nodded his understanding, yet he couldn't put it together.

"See, and don't like, freak out or anything here, okay? But he and I were war-buddies, and I... I liked him. A lot. And then... after all these years, in one drunken fell swoop I tell him that and he pops me. He was so... disgusted, you know? And all I could think was how good he looked angry, how it made him seem alive. He's always been so stony, so chilly. But it's like a whole new person comes out when he's angry. I've only seen him truly angry a few times over the years, mostly it had to do with hurting friends, yanno? Someone hurts his buds, he gets angry, gets even."

The bartender nodded, not in the least but disgusted. He looked interested even, like a soap-opera watcher, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"So maybe he's liked you to, and he hadn't coped with it yet. Soldiers are weird that way, no offense. Besides, you can't be more than 22 at the most, how old were you in the wars.?"

Duo didn't lie, but he told him the half-truth.

"Well, I've never known how old I am exactly, but I was about 15-16 when the war started? And after the Mariemaia incident, we got Sally, our friend in the preventers, to get us all IDs and stuff. I was never registered, war orphan and all, and the others... well 'Fei and Quat had IDs and birthdays and stuff, but me'n Heero and Trowa, we were up in the air, really. So Sally got us IDs, and she makes it so that we're legally adults, cos otherwise we'd be wards of the state. So it's all weird. I'm legally 21, but I guess in years I'm like, 18 or 19. It's odd not knowing when to celebrate getting a year older. You never really think about it until you don't have it. And no one ever celebrated birthdays where I lived, and for the Church, we were all born on Christmas. It was convenient."

The bartender looked a bit skeptical, but decided to let it slide. He had the papers, the ID, that's what counted. It wasn't a fake, so there had to be a crazy explanation for it.

"So, You're still young. Maybe, since you guys fought so young too, maybe he doesn't know how to deal with this kind of thing yet? Maybe he doesn't think he deserves love or something stupid like that. That's what you always hear on those TV talk shows anyways."

Duo laughed, a real laugh.

"You know, this is the best conversation I've had in three years?"

"Really? You seem like the life-of-the-party types. The kind with lots of connections, I balk at the word 'friends'. Like someone everyone could love."

Duo's face turned dark, his eyes far away.

"No, I'm the one they all hate, cos they see themselves in me. They're projecting, yanno? I took a psych class at night school, so I learned all about it. It made so much sense to me. I mean, that's why they're always telling me to go away, to fuck off. To shut up, even when I'm silent. And it hurts, but I think I got used to it. I got used to the fact that that was how they saw me, and as long as they were still there, I could live with that." He laughed hollowly. "As if anyone can live like that. I was this close," he held out his thumb and forefinger close together, "to saying 'fuck it'. I held that gun to my head, and I stared at my reflection. I could see myself in the window glass, and I saw how much I let them affect me. And I thought 'why do you let them do this?'. I couldn't answer it, so I didn't pull the trigger, and I went looking for the answer. I went to that psych class, and I figured it out. It was so much... not easier, but more understandable to me."

The bartender just looked at him. Duo could tell he'd said too much.

"Hey, thanks for the ice, and the conversation, but I have to get my shit before 'Ro gets home. Bye." He walked away, unable to face the man he'd just opened up to. He hadn't told anyone about that. About his almost-suicide. Hell, he'd never even spoken to himself about it. He had shoved away the memory, shoved it deep inside. But now all he could see was the reflection.

The blank eyes, the shine of the gun. The feel of the cold barrel slowly warming to the skin of his temple.

He walked home, eyes on the ground, not looking around for danger like he usually did. He was so tired, he decided. He was dead tired of this shit.

Duo Maxwell had been a great many things in his short existence.

An orphan, a thief, a choir-boy, a killer, a friend, a lover. But none of them had stayed with him. None of his persona's had stayed. He could feel them inside, dead and just taking up space in his soul. He could almost taste the dust and the rot.

He stopped, key poised to unlock the apartment.

There was the answer. There was the thing that was eating him up inside. It wasn't the fact that no one cared really, it wasn't that he was used and abused for his entire life.

It was that he'd never been able to let go of those things. Heero had let go of his assassin past, had gone into the Preventers to utilize it and to atone. Quatre made up for his actions in the war by creating charities and jobs. Wufei had finally moved on from Meiran's death, getting together with Sally. They had all moved on... And he was still stuck, whining about his terrible past.

Hell, how terrible was it?

He wasn't trained from the time he could walk to kill people. His entire colony hadn't blown itself up. He never had to deal with being a killer from birth.

He had the easy past, the one that separated him from the rest. Wufei and Quatre were raised in their families, and so had better childhoods than the other three. But they still did horrible things before puberty.

Trowa was a mercenary, he had no name, no home. But he had found Cathy, and now he had a home, a family. He had a lover who loved him, and he had moved past all of it. Heero was trained to be a killer, a perfect soldier.

That sucked. All he had was no name, no family. He was a gang-baby, an orphan who witnessed horrible crimes, but never had much of a place in any of it. The gang died, and he was alive because he had some hell of a immune system. The Maxwell orphanage burnt down, and he only saw Helen die. He tried not to acknowledge the frightening thought that maybe it was his fault, that because he had gone to get that suit...

no.

It wasn't his fault. It was another in a string of tragic, unrelated events.

Duo sighed, deciding that he'd pick his stuff up tomorrow. He walked down the street, eyes seeing only inside. He walked for hours, going nowhere in particular, yet his feet kept leading him to places he'd rather no think about.

The park where he and Heero used to play basket ball on the weekends they had free. That Italian place that they'd get take-out from on occasion.

He thought about life. Thought about love, and the past. Thought about the future. What was the future for him?

The future he would have liked to have seen would never come true, not now. There would be no happy home with his lover and friends. No dog and dinners together, no late-night talks, or steamy sex.

None of it.

He thought about the real future.

He would have to get his things. Get a new place to live. Get a new job. Even as he thought this, thought about the things that needed to be done, the things that he had to do, he thought about that one night, long ago. Back before he realized that they cared, just in a strange way. That night, the gleam of the gun, the smell of the gun powder...No what he needed was to think of what his new future would be like. His new life.

A new life.

He stopped, standing in the middle of a slow sidewalk. That was the answer, he thought. To get a new life. He'd always just gone on as Duo, as the orphan, the killer.

No. Now he would become someone new. Someone that his friends would like. Someone that was enjoyable, someone that they would laugh with and talk to and love.

Love...

-

-

-

-

...Okay. I lied. There'll be at least one more chappie. I dunno how I feel about this one. I just spent two hours of god-awful early in the morning (it's now 1:38) re-checking, double checking, and editing and rewriting this to my sorts satisfaction. It's better than it was. I'm annoyed at myself for making it four days... but I guess I hadn't forseen the backround story to actually come into play...

Anyways, thanks a million you guys. I'm so tickled at the reviews. They're what made me feel like I had to get this out as soon as I could. I'm still putting off the essay due in two days... A ten page research paper... I still... ugh. Wish me luck!

(Passes out)

(P.S For those who were wondering, this is my Quat-there-before-Sally thing: Okay, so Quatre was probably closer to the apartment, and seeing as Sally would have lots of work and maybe patients, then as the head of a corp, Quatre can leave if necessary _before_ Sally. It made sense to me...)


	3. Chapter 3

I couldn't decide whether to cry or jump around ecstatically when I got so many great reviews! I was so pleased that you really liked it! I finished my essay, and now have a full week to write, hopefully I'll get out at least one, hopefully two chapters. Maybe I'll even work on the other things I've got going.

(Don't much count on that one... I'll try, but really...)

-

-

-

-

Love...

Love was something that Duo had not felt since... Since Helen. She was the one person who had loved him just for being him. She would hold him as she sang hymns to help him sleep... Would brush and braid his hair, telling him about God and Love. What was it she had said to him?

"God is love. He is the feeling that you get, and he is the person that you love. God is love, so when you love someone, you love God."

He had laughed at her, saying that he had never, and he would never, love anyone in his life. The look on her face had made him hastily reassure her that she would be the only person he loved in the world. She smiled, and said that if she was the only person he loved, that she would be sad because he had so much love to give.

If only she had known...

But everyone reaches a point where you can't keep giving without receiving something in return. If you keep giving and no one will give you anything back, you'll just keep giving until you break. Duo gave them all of his love, all of his love. He had given them his everything, and they had smiled and nodded and ignored and shunned him.

He was tired of bending over backwards for people that didn't understand the gift that they had been given.

He was tired of going to a shit job where he was paid next to nothing just so that he would be ridiculed and under-appreciated. He was sick of being the convenient friend. The one who didn't require days in advance notice to talk to. The one that they all came up to and dumped their loads on. He was tired of it.

Duo sat in the park, staring up at the cloudy sky, wishing that he could see the stars.

Would he live among the stars?

This was his chance to start new. To find a new place in the world, a new persona, and new Duo Maxwell.

He would be friendly, but not overly so. He would be smart, and funny. Witty and polite. Someone invited to all the parties, but only the ones with his friends.

He would have real friends.

Not just comrades at arms. True friends, who would talk, and who would listen

They would listen when he told them of his constant harassment at work, when he shared his hopes and dreams.

They would find him interesting and lovable.

He would be loved.

Loved...

-

"Duo." Sally called, trying to snap him into the present. She was worried. This was far more extensive than anything that they had thought that might happen. Sure they had plans for if any of them went Zero, or if they had a small psychotic episode... but this?

This was a major psychotic episode. This was something major... something that scared Sally, that shook her to her core. She had known that Duo was unhappy, that he was feeling lonely. But she thought that it was nothing more than just a passing thing. After all, everyone knew that Heero and Duo went out on weekends and played ball, or fixed that car. They went places and did things.

How could he be lonely?

Well, she had her answer now.

"Duo..Duo please." She stared into blank indigo eyes as she called out. She swore she could see the life return to them as he answered her.

"No Sally. I'm not Duo. Is it time to go now?" She nodded dumbly, not quite sure what to make of this. He stood up, face steady and eyes looking around him like he was seeing everything for the first time. He walked to the door, calm and collected. He turned to her, motioning for her to move. She walked cautiously to him, scared of making sudden move, scared that he may be in a temporary state of shock and denial.

She motioned for the rest of the group to follow, and they all walked down to the cars. Nothing was said during the elevator ride down, and nothing more than "We'll see you at the office." was heard before they separated into the cars. Wufei and Heero got into their car, while Quatre was on the phone, presumably with Trowa as he headed to his car. Sally put Duo in the back of the special car, one much like a police vehicle with the separated front and back. He sat calmly, staring out the window as she drove to the Preventer's Psych hospital, St Mary's.

--In Wufei and Heero's Car--

"Heero... Heero, what happened? This didn't just happen all at once. This took time, maybe years to happen." Wufei kept his eyes on the road, but still looked like he was staring accusingly at the man who had been closest to the cheerful man that had just completely lost touch with the world.

"What I want to know is why I'm the only one who is supposed to notice these things. You saw him too. I wasn't the only person he was around. I was just his roommate and friend. We would go out and do things together because you guys were always away. Quatre and Trowa were busy running Winner Enterprises, as well as happily going about their own relationship. You and Sally were absorbed in each other, as well as work. I had to make time for him, not just for him though.

"I needed him to be there for me too. Work can't be everything. That's why they sent me to that therapist for so long. I had to learn that, and no one else was willing to help me other than him. That's why we built that car. That's why I sold it. I couldn't stand the reminder that work wasn't my life anymore... He was. And now he's gone, and why would I need the reminder to live life when my life walks away... walks away because I hurt him, and because he thinks I hate him... I just couldn't do it. It hurt... and inside I knew that it would always hurt, but the soldier in me... The blasted perfectionist bastard that J had molded me to be came back and started whispering to me. No not really, don't look at me like that, I'm not hearing voices."

Heero smiled softly, almost laughing at Wufei's face as he sputtered.

"I was not- I would never- Alright. I lied. I was thinking that... But can you blame me? One of my closest friends just about killed himself and insists on being a new person. I'm a bit hesitant to not take some things seriously."

Heero actually laughed. He sighed as they drove up to the building, watching Duo get out of the car calmly, staring at the sky as he waited for Sally to get everything together. Heero could see his eyes, bright with the sun and a semblance of the old Duo.

Maybe there was still hope... Maybe he could get his old friend... his life, back.

"J's perfect soldier was telling me that I didn't need distractions anymore, because without Duo... without my life, work was the only thing I had left. And I couldn't pine away for him by looking at that car, by thinking about the past, I had to move on and forget him. Just like always... Except you want to know something? I never really forgot any of them. Any of the people I hurt along the way."

Heero watched Duo calmly be led into the building, as Wufei stopped the car and made to get out.

"We never really do Heero. I still remember my family, my wife. But I embrace them now, I can hold on to the memories and not feel guilty for wanting to be happy, for wanting to live with Sally and work and be me. I had striven to be what my family wanted me to be, and it was killing me, inside and out to be so unhappy. So I changed, I got out and did what I wanted and started seeing Sally, because it made me happy."

"Isn't that what Duo did?"

They both sat in the car, thinking.

--In Quatre's car--

"Trowa.. There's been an... incident. Duo... Well... He's being taken to Saint Mary's." Quatre stopped, trying to talk past the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest, it was too hard.

"Quatre... What happened? Is he hurt physically, or is he mentally ill?"

Thank God for Trowa. He knew Quatre better than Quatre himself.

"What would I do without you? He's had a break... A psychotic episode. I'm on my way to pick you up, because we need to get all of us there. I don't know if it will help though... He's far gone. He... Oh Trowa, he cut his hair! He's so... dead. He recognized us all, and he's calm enough. But he's dead Trowa. He isn't Duo anymore."

He heard a sigh, and quiet reassurances whispered in his ear.

"Don't worry, we'll get him back Quat. We'll get him back. I'll be downstairs waiting, okay mon petite?"

Quat stifled a giggle.

"Don't call me that! I know I'm shorter than you, but who isn't?"

It was a well worn "argument" between them. They played with nicknames all the time, a habit picked up from Duo.

"But angel, how will I know where you are when you don't blush so brightly you shine?"

"Trowa! You're horrible!"

He heard snickers coming from Trowa's end of the line, and was grateful for the momentary distraction.

"Thank you Trowa. You know how much I love you, right?"

"Yes, little one."

"Good. Because for the next week, you'll be sleeping alone."

The gasp and cursing was not lost on Quatre, and he laughed outright before shouting love to his partner and hanging up.

He felt a little better now...

-

Duo sat in the chair, the same cold hard plastic ones in every hospital in the Earth Sphere. He wondered briefly why they made them so uncomfortable. He figured it was one of two things: either they were trying to pull a mental trick, the feeling of discomfort created nervousness which in turn led the patient to be more cooperative in hopes of leaving sooner. Or it was just that they never had to sit in the damn things themselves.

Who knows.

Was he crazy? They seemed to think he was. What had happened had been good. It was his rebirth. And now they wanted him? Only when faced with the possibility of loss would they fight to keep him. It simply wasn't fair.

He'd been such a great person. He was caring and kind (usually) and he was loving. That's what started this whole mess.

He still couldn't blame Sister Helen though. Even if she did open the gates in his head, it was only himself he could blame, for trusting that love was something that they would share with the likes of him.

Oh well.

Call it a lesson in life.

He sat in the chair, staring into the distant walls, the stark white corridors. Would they keep him here? Would they let him out, or would they tell him that he was too dangerous to live with and simply kill him out of pity and a sense of duty.

He smiled, a shallow smile, one directed at Sally, an attempt to reassure her that, no, he wasn't crazy.

She seemed more nervous after this... Maybe he should just stay quiet after all...

-

Sally directed Duo to the chairs in the waiting area while she went to the desk to get the necessary paperwork. It was going to be hard to convince anyone to not just lock him up, simply on the grounds of his former pilot and terrorist status. If only he were a Preventer! Then he could have people vouch for him...

Then again, Une would have an aneurysm if Duo joined up. She still couldn't stand the former pilot.

She took the clipboard provided by the smiling desk clerk and sat next to the man staring off into space. He smiled at her, making her draw back a little. Was he dangerous?

Probably not, but she could remember several occasions where she witnessed him smile as he gleefully killed the men around him.

It was one of the most haunting sights she had ever seen.

She just didn't know what to make of the situation...

-

Heero was the last to trail into the office, he would rather be outside waiting with his former friend. Not to protect the world from him, but to protect the man from the world. He was still Duo, deep down, but he was also this new person, someone who would never be quite the same as his old comrade.

"I brought you all in here to discuss Mister Maxwell's... Delicate condition."

They all nodded, faces strained with worry. They were almost family, many of them not having any family left to call on, so they had banded together in order to be the ones that each of them could trust.

Oh, how they had blown it.

"Mister Maxwell is currently sedated, not for safety reasons mind you, but for the simple fact that he needs the rest." He had seen the rising ire, and had quickly added the last part. "He is in a state of shock, possibly in denial. He committed a, to him, act of death and rebirth. He is no longer who he once was. That is the way he explained it to me. 'I could no longer be that person. So now, now I've changed to suit the life before me.' Those were his words. I need to know some of the things that led to this rather odd occurrence. I'll need to speak to each of you alone, starting with the person who found him."

Heero looked at the doctor, nodding his understanding. They all filed out, Trowa nodding his reassurance to Heero, while Quatre placed a hand on his shoulder.

Heero sat at the chair in front of the doctor, wishing he was outside with his Duo.

His Duo. Something that could never be again.

"Mister Yuy, I need to know a bit about the situation before this incident and a bit about your relationship to Mister Maxwell."

Heero nodded, gathering his memories.

"We were in the war together, as you know, and after the war we became roommates. I started work at the Preventers, and he took a mechanic's position at a nearby garage. We've lived together for three years now... And...I... I think I liked him... as more than just a friend. But I never knew it. I always just assumed it was because we were roommates, or that we spent more time together than with the rest of you guys. I... I would wait until he came home from his late night bar-hoping before I would go to sleep. That's how... that's how this all started. He... He was later than usual, and I... I guess I was worried. I know he's capable of protecting himself, but... I always wanted to make sure he was safe. It was my way of showing how I cared. He came home, and I opened the door, waiting to tell him that it was lat, and ask if he was okay, what had held him up. And then... before I could really fully understand it, he was kissing me, and I just... lashed out. I didn't even know I was doing it until he was on the floor... My hand ached from that hit. And he just lay there... So sad... And all I could think was "How could you hurt him like that? How could he hurt you like that?". I wanted him to feel like I did... I wanted him to loose his footing, to be lost without a clue in his feelings. I sold... I sold the car because it hurt to look at it and to think that we would never be able to be like that again... All because of two seconds."

Heero sighed, running his hands through his hair, eyes gazing into the past, not seeing the face of the doctor now, but seeing the purple bruise, the ugly swelling and the pain in those eyes. He watched as again, his Duo cut off his hair... His dead indigo eyes, the ones that had always sparkled, even in sadness.

He had been so sad lately... Hadn't he. Heero hadn't been as attentive to him lately.

"I think that he was getting more despondent as time went by... because I wasn't paying attention to him... I've been busy with work.. Busy avoiding him because he made me think about things... Things like friendships and lovers... Moving out into a bigger place... maybe getting a dog or something. I was being... domesticated... and I didn't want it. I mean, I did, but the soldier in me was screaming orders... screaming about how this wasn't the way for me to live..."

He sighed again.

"That soldier wanted to leave...to pick up and go and to never look back. A soldier shouldn't be happy... Not unless he's done well on a mission. He's just been promoted. A win. Something. Not because... Not because he was starting to like his best friend as more than that..."

The doctor looked up from his notes, searching the face of this man. He was so young, yet he was so troubled.

"Have you been in therapy before?"

A nod."

"Yes sir, two years of it. I was... I had a strange childhood, and I got the help I needed. It's never going to completely go away, and I've gotten help from my friends. I actually got the most help from Duo. He really taught me how to live. And now... now that man is gone. He was my closest friend, and now he's someone I don't really know. Maybe he'll be just like they was he was before, acting just the same, but he'll always be just a little off. His hair... It's not like I'm obsessed with it, I didn't much care for it really. It always got in the way, and was forever clogging the drain. But it was the one thing of his that he carried throughout his childhood. He wouldn't really talk about his childhood much. It was... Bad, I guess. He was an orphan, living on the streets until he got taken in by an orphanage that was destroyed shortly thereafter. He would wake up some nights screaming, crying. He never talked in his sleep, but he would always mumble about the people he dreamt of as I sat there holding him while he calmed down."

The doctor looked at him, assessing his statement.

"I think that you did indeed have a closer relationship than you thought with him. I hate to ask you to think of hard things, but can you tell me about Duo's interaction with you? What was he like around you, versus how he was around the others?"

Heero looked uncomfortable, but answered none the less, his voice quieter than before as he contemplated the interactions of the two of them.

"Duo was clingy. He liked to touch people, hugs, a hand on a shoulder. He didn't do it to everybody mind you, he only did it to close friends and people he knew as more than acquaintances. But when we were together at a get-together or party, he would stay near me. I think it was both to comfort me, and to comfort himself. I liked it because I could keep an eye on him, could protect him... It was my soldier instincts... I told myself that it was my mission to keep him from harm. How I failed... Anyways, he liked to talk. He talked in abundance, and about everything. It was a good way to distract people from what he was doing or thinking. If they can't ask questions, then they can't figure him out. I never did that... I was always quiet, I talked to people, but when we got to something I didn't want to talk about, I just got quiet. He would talk around the subject. It was a dance almost. He liked Quatre and Wufei best after me I suppose. He and Trowa never got along really. I think he was still sore about Trowa blowing up Deathscythe, and then being his jailer. I think I would be a bit resentful too."

Heero stared out the window at the sunset, the color's flaring and mingling.

"For someone who labeled himself as Death, the Grim Reaper... He was a caring soul. He gave us all of his love, and we took it, because it was there and it was so nice... But we never gave him much back. I feel so bad for it too... I never thought about it much before he confessed to me that night. Now that I think about it..."

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"I think it was because subconsciously I knew that he loved me, and that I didn't object to it that I hurt him. I would never have hurt him, but my body acted, my subconscious took over before rational thought did. I was so close to him... I just wish that I could get that back."

He looked at the doctor directly, his deep blue gaze slightly unnerving the doctor.

"I don't understand love... I don't know if that is what I feel towards the man I knew... But I know that if he'd give me another chance, I would gladly try to love him if it would bring him happiness."

He cleared his throat, a slight flush staining his cheeks as he got up.

"I think that's enough. You should talk to Wufei or Quatre next, they'll be able to answer more questions..."

Heero turned and walked to the door, pausing as his hand reached the handle.

"Do you think that we can bring back some of his old self? I think that it is better for him now, that he's dealt with some of the demons of his past and he's trying to become the person he's been inside all along... But do you think that he can forgive us... Forgive me?"

The doctor looked at the strained face, the desperate gleam in Heero's eyes. He couldn't break this poor man, not now.  
"Yes. I think that there's still a chance that he'll be more of the man he once was, and that he'll be tempered by this experience, much like tempered steel. He'll be stronger for it, and maybe one day he'll forgive you."

The doctor smiled.

"But I think the first step to that goal is to forgive yourself. He'll come around only if you can come to terms with yourself. Think about it, okay?"

Heero nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.

"What a sad young man. I truly hope that Mister Maxwell can still see the wonderful boy he fell in love with. I hope that it turns out alright in the end. They'll grow from this. The question is: will they grow together, or will they grow apart for good?"

He pressed the intercom, telling his assistant to send for Chang Wufei. He still had work to do.

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I just wanted to thank you again for the reviews. I hope that this helped you to understand Heero. I can see his turmoil, his pain. He really didn't understand what was happening, so he distanced himself to figure it out, but unintentionally he instigated this entire thing. Poor Heero!

And to one reviewer from another story, I hope that I have created a character that you can feel with, that you can see through their eyes, and feel what they do.

Thank you for reading!


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